Under The Surface
by Caelice
Summary: Izaya wakes up in a coffin with nothing but a flashlight and a cell phone. He doesn't know where he is or how much air he has left. All he knows is that he's running out of time and there's only one person who can save him – Heiwajima Shizuo.
1. Chapter One

**Durarara: **I own Daichi Nakamura and Hana Nakamura. I do not own the Durarara characters.

**Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

**Summary: **Izaya wakes up in a coffin with nothing but a flashlight and a cell phone. He doesn't know where he is or how much air he has left. All he knows is that he's running out of time and there's only one person who can save him – Heiwajima Shizuo.

**Notes: **Yes, this idea is blatantly taken from _Buried_, which I just watched. The idea definitely isn't original, but I watched the movie and since I've been contemplating writing a Durarara fanfic, I settled on writing this one since I couldn't think of an original plot. However, this deviates slightly from the movie. I don't want to spoil anything for anyone who hasn't seen the movie, though, so I won't say any more.

I'm still not sure if this is slash or not. I think it leans more towards Shizaya friendship rather than romance, but I guess it would be up to your interpretation. Well, I hope you enjoy the story and please review!

**Under the Surface**

He could hear the faint sound of something ringing. It didn't sound like his ring tone, or like his alarm, but it was a familiar tune. And it was annoying enough to pull him out of his sleep.

The first thing he noticed was that it was hot.

Really hot. Almost suffocating, in fact. He didn't remember it being this stuffy when he went to sleep, so why was it so warm in here?

Izaya groaned, squeezing his eyes together and feeling drowsy. His mind was blurred and vacant, his limbs heavy. He frowned, never having felt this sensation upon waking before. Was he sick? That conclusion jumped to his mind, but he didn't really feel bad, just unnaturally tired.

He lifted his arms in an attempt to stretch, but they were stopped barely inches above his head, slamming against something with a dull _thud_. He froze, eyes snapping open.

It didn't make any difference. Even with his eyes open his world was pitch black. He waited patiently for a few seconds, but when his eyes didn't adjust he began to feel the slightest twinge of panic. His hands, still pressed against the rough material on top of him, pushed lightly. The wall didn't budge.

His breath hitched slightly and his eyes darted around, though he still couldn't see anything. His hands moved faster now, feeling around him to get an idea of where he was currently lying down. His movement was restricted several inches above his head and on his sides. He could probably move to one edge of the space and extend his arms and _just _brush the other end of the wall. He kicked out with his legs, heart thundering as the soles of his shoes hit another wall.

Even with in his panicked state he managed to deduce that the walls were made of wood and if he had to guess he was in a coffin of some sort.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," he repeated, his breathing becoming frantic. He was in silence so the wheezing of his breath was the only thing that could be heard, along with the sound of his hands and knees slamming against the walls of the coffin. "Help! Somebody help me! _HELP!_" The usually composed informant flailed his hands around, slamming them against the walls. The dull _thud _sounds indicated that the coffin was probably surrounded by dirt, but it barely registered in the back of his mind.

He screamed and howled, yelling for someone to hear him, to help him.

"_HELP! HEEEEEELP MEEEE!" _

His hand brushed against something near his head and the object clattered against the side of the coffin. He jumped, struggling to turn and grab the object, whatever it was. With shaky hands he gripped the object, feeling the shape and letting out a relieved sob when he realized what it was:

"Flashlight! F-flashlight-" he gasped, fumbling for the button or the switch or _whatever _it was that turned on this blessed device. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he found the button and pressed it, blinking feverishly when a bright light shone out of the flashlight. He forced himself to calm down, knowing that panicking wasn't going to do anything except waste precious oxygen.

He shone the light around, confirming what he'd already discovered – he was in a coffin. It was just big enough to hold his body, a few inches taller than himself, and not wide enough for him stretch his arms out. He struggled to control his breathing, feeling terror rising inside him.

At the corner of the box, next to his head on the other side of where the flashlight had been, was a cell phone.

He nearly shrieked, scrabbling for it and bringing it close to his face. The phone was a Nokia, a relatively new model with a color screen. He glanced at it, noting the bars indicating that there was a signal. That meant he wasn't too far underground, probably only a few feet.

He had one missed call.

Suddenly he remembered that strange ringing that had woken him up and realized that it had been coming from this phone. Someone had been calling him. Maybe someone who could explain why the hell he was _in this damn coffin!_

He took a few deep breaths, calming himself. Yes, he was trapped in a coffin a few feet underground, probably going to suffocate if he didn't get out of here, but he was still Izaya Orihara the informant who was unruffled by any situation. He would strive to remain his usual self, because his pride wouldn't let him be any other way.

He called back the unfamiliar number, cursing the fact that his breathing sounded so loud in the silence. He didn't want the other person to hear his terror over the phone.

The phone only rang once before someone picked up.

"_Ah, Orihara-san, I see you've woken up_." The voice was familiar, but not enough that he could put a face to it. "_How are you feeling?"_

He bristled at the light tone, but didn't allow the man to sense his fury.

"Ah, as well as can be expected for a person waking up inside a coffin," he joked lightly. "I can't say much for the comfort, but at least you get points for creativity."

"_Of course, I expected you to react like this. Even in these circumstances you'll pretend that you still have control of the situation. That's what I always admired about you."_

"I'm curious as to what I did to deserve to be in this "situation", as you call it."

The man paused, and Izaya gritted his teeth. Every second his time was running out and it was getting harder and harder to pretend he was okay. He pressed his palm against the wood in front of him, feeling his heartbeat speed up.

"_Being an informant, you sell information for a price. But you never stop to think about the consequences. You probably never stop to care about how much you've ruined someone's life by selling them out. I want to change that. Because now, for once, you're feeling the consequences of what you've done. Tell me, was the money worth what you're experiencing right now?"_

Izaya wracked his brain, trying desperately to place this voice. He had obviously had some important information on this man and he knew for sure that they had at least talked, considering the voice was familiar, but he couldn't figure out what exactly had transpired between them to make this man so bitter.

"I don't do it for the money. I do it for the entertainment," he corrected.

"_Ah…so the fact that you're actions caused my business to go bankrupt leading to my wife's suicide is entertaining to you?" _

Fuck. Now he remembered who this guy was. Daichi Nakamura, a corrupt man who had been deeply involved in a drug dealing business.

He had sold crucial information to rival drug dealers and several weeks later had received news that most of Nakamura's men had been slaughtered and his business had crumbled to the ground within hours. The man himself had gone into hiding, away from his enemies and the police. His wife had then hung herself from shame a few days later. No wonder the man hated him. Izaya had essentially ruined his life.

"Highly entertaining," he cooed, though his voice wavered. "You humans always have such predictable reactions. Though I must say you surprised me with this one, Nakamura-san. I expected a hired assassin of some sort to shoot me dead in the street, not some movie-style vengeance."

"_I didn't want you dead. Not yet. I still want something from you._"

"Eh? And what's that?"

"_I know you have 200 million yen stashed in a suitcase in your apartment. I paid some people to search your apartment. I want that 200 million yen and I want you to get a certain someone to give it to me."_

Izaya was confused. "If your people found it, why do you need me to get it for you? Why not just get them to take it?"

"_Because this isn't about the money – that's just a bonus. No, this is about the game. The only way I will release you is if you get a certain someone to bring the money to me._"

"Who?"

"_The phone you have is a special phone. Try dialing a number on it," _the man instructed. Izaya lifted the phone and tried pressing random numbers. It didn't work – the keys were stuck or something, as if they had been locked or glued down or something. He couldn't press them no matter how hard he tried.

"It doesn't work."

"_Exactly. You can only use the buttons at the top – the call buttons and such. The numbers are unusable, which means you can't dial any new numbers. Now if you go to your contacts, you will find a single number labeled 'Unknown'. This is the person I want to deliver me the money. Nobody else. If it's anyone but him, or if you don't deliver the money in time, then I will leave you to rot in there."_

The threat was real enough for Izaya to grit his teeth and inhale, forcing himself to stay silent.

"So this is…a game to you?" he nearly snarled.

"_Isn't it strange, Orihara-san, to be the victim for once? I'm sure you appreciate experiencing what it's like to be someone else's toy, rather than the one pulling the strings. All these years you've manipulated people, and suddenly you find yourself in a situation where you're one of the players and your own life is on the line. How does it feel?" _

"It's a new experience."

"_You have a couple of hours before your oxygen runs out. Oh, and don't bother with telling the police. I have several contacts in the police who will make sure that by the time they find you, you'll be nothing but a rotting corpse."_

"What a delightful image."

"_For me it is. And good luck, Orihara-san. Hurry and call your contact. I'm sure you'll appreciate my sense of irony."_

And then he hung up, leaving Izaya's harsh breathing the only noise in the box. He resisted the urge to yell and throw the phone, knowing it would only bounce back and hit him in the face, or end up out of reach next to his shoes.

He wasn't so much scared as he was pissed off now. He couldn't believe Nakamura had the _audacity _to fuck with him like this. He would show the man, once he got out of this damn box. He would find him and cut off all his limbs and have him screaming and begging for mercy. And it would be sweet, sweet revenge.

He went to his contacts and surely enough, the only one there was 'Unknown'. Vaguely he wondered if this person was also in on the entire scheme. He pressed the Call button and held the phone to his ear.

It rang once…twice…three times…

He drew in a sharp breath when someone finally answered:

"_Hello?"_

- 0 –

- 0 -

Shizuo had had a crap day. He arrived back at his apartment covered in leaves and gunk from when he'd uprooted a tree and shaken it, forcing the hiding man to fall out ungracefully. Tom hadn't complained about his methods, merely sighed and continued with his job.

Their day had been quite busy, considering several people had not paid their debts and were trying to avoid having to do so. Two of them had even tried to attack him, only to have their faces broken when he'd lost his temper.

Finally, once he and Tom had parted, he been in a bad mood and wanted to just go home and relax. He closed his door none-too-gently and began peeling off his clothes, throwing them in the laundry basket. He hoped they didn't stain – the clothes had been from Kasuka.

He set his cell phone onto the counter, stepping into his bathroom to take a nice long shower.

Once he was done, he flopped onto his couch in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, sighing. The shower hadn't really helped him lower his stress levels. He was still feeling worked up.

Maybe he could go beat up the flea – that always made him feel better.

Izaya hadn't turned up in Ikebukuro for a while, and Shizuo was always expecting him to pop up at some corner, mocking him or tormenting some poor innocent soul. He was glad that the flea had decided to leave this place alone for a while, but since then he hadn't had much of an outlet for his frustration. It wasn't as satisfying beating up spineless losers.

He wondered what the flea was up to, what manipulative plan he was conjuring. Whatever it was, it would probably cause trouble for Shizuo and make his life difficult. When the flea lay low, it wasn't a good thing for Shizuo.

He picked up the remote, turning on the television and switching the channels, not feeling his interest peaked by any of them.

He felt a vibration and looked down, realizing that someone was calling him. He picked up the phone, looking at the flashing screen. The number wasn't showing – it was an unknown caller – and he frowned, wondering who it was. The only people who really called him were Tom and Kasuka, sometimes Shinra, while Celty only ever texted him.

Maybe it was a wrong number. He lifted the phone to his ear:

"Hello?"

"_Who…who is this?" _

The voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He frowned, puzzled by this question. Why were they asking him who he was?

"Who is this? _You _called _me_."

There was a pause and he could almost hear the man wondering whether it was a good idea to reveal their identity.

"_Just tell me who you are._"

"Shizuo. Now who the hell are you?" he snapped, his patience thinning.

The call ended. He stared at his phone, confused. Why had they just hung up on him? He shrugged, tossing the phone onto the couch. Whatever. It probably wasn't even important.

- 0 –

- 0 -

Izaya hung up, heart slamming against his rib cage.

Oh no, no, no, no_, no, no, no!_

He was dead. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt despair creeping up inside of him and whined in frustration, slamming his fists against the walls of the coffin.

Maybe if he just punched the walls enough they would break and he could dig himself out. He would probably then have more chance of doing that than of convincing…_him_. He rubbed his face with his palms, wishing he could just wake up out of this nightmare.

But when he opened his eyes, he was still in the coffin. There were still wooden walls trapping him underground.

And Shizuo was still the only person who could save him.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes: **I have a quick question for my readers. Would anybody be interested in reading a Durarara superhero/supervillain story? Because I'm thinking of writing one (obviously a Shizaya story) and want to know what you guys think. It would be multi-chaptered and with quite a bit of angst – but also a mix of other things. Anyone like the thought?

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter Two**

"_I'm guessing that you called your contact?"_

Nakamura's voice was clearly amused, which made Izaya scowl.

After about twenty seconds of glaring at his phone and wondering what to do next, Izaya had gone to his received calls and called Nakamura's number, fuming from the indignity of the man's actions.

Forced to ask help from that…from that…_caveman _was mortifying.

"Putting Shizu-chan as my only contact is a little unfair, don't you think, Nakamura-san?" he said, struggling to keep his voice casual. No matter how bad this became, no matter how little hope he had left, he wouldn't show Nakamura that he'd been broken. He would remain unnaturally polite and cheerful when he was speaking with Nakamura, and when he was alone then he would go mad.

"_My game, my rules. If you want to live, then you have to convince him to help you._"

"How can I? Shizu-chan is a monster, and monsters don't listen to reason."

"_I don't care what he is, Orihara-san. If he doesn't bring me the money soon, you will rot in that box. If anyone besides him brings me the money, you will rot in that box. If he calls the police, you will rot in that box. Do you see what I'm saying?_"

"It's a little hard to misunderstand," Izaya muttered, clenching his jaw in frustration. He shifted, the heat of the box making him feel even more claustrophobic than before. "You set this up so I would die, didn't you?"

"_What do you mean?_"

"You've made it impossible for me to escape. You know Shizuo hates me with a passion and wouldn't help me in a million years. You know he's going to leave me to die and you're counting on it. It wouldn't be proper vengeance if I lived, after all."

Nakamura was silent for an impossibly long time and Izaya wondered if he just wasn't going to answer. Finally, when the man spoke, his voice was strangely serious:

"_You never know. Maybe he'll surprise you._"

Then the line cut off and Izaya was left alone, with only the light of the phone to illuminate the box he was lying in, trapped. He'd turned off the flashlight to save the battery, but now he clutched it with trembling fingers and turned it on, feeling only slightly comforted by the light.

He couldn't escape this. Sure, Izaya had a lot of pride and in most circumstances he would refuse to relinquish said pride. But in times like these, self-preservation seemed to take over and all he could think about was the fact that he was trapped in what could very well be his grave. Perhaps it wasn't even the thought of death, but the manner of death that scared him. A bullet to the head was quick, painless. But suffocation was not. The hours of anticipation and the slow build-up of carbon dioxide were not a part of what Izaya would consider a pleasant and peaceful passing.

So if he wanted to avoid that dreary fate he would have to suck it up and call the one person he hated the most.

Finally, he resigned himself to an ego crushing conversation and called Shizuo.

- 0 –

- 0 –

The phone was ringing again. He glanced at it as it vibrated, the screen flashing. He picked it up and frowned, realizing that it was the same unknown caller who'd hung up a few minutes ago. He considered just letting the phone ring until they gave up, annoyed by their previous conversation.

Instead he sighed, pressing the call button and holding it to his ear.

"Tell me who you are or I'll hang up again," he warned gruffly. He wasn't in the mood for games.

"_Ahhh, always so rude and impatient, Shizu-chan. Politeness is a virtue, you know,_" a teasing voice replied. His blood went cold and he froze, that oh-so-familiar rage bubbling up inside him.

He gritted his teeth, standing up and yelling:

"How the _hell_ did you get this number, flea?" He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising in anger.

"_That is irrelevant, Shizu-chan. But I can tell you that I did not actively try to acquire this number. I was given it by…an old enemy."_

"Who?" Shizuo snarled, making a mental note to kill whoever this was. Being manipulated by Izaya was bad enough, but to have someone else in on their "game" was unbearable.

"_If I told you, then you'd go into a blind rage and hunt them down and then you wouldn't be able to listen to what I have to tell you."_

"Yeah? What the hell makes you think I'd listen to you anyway?"

"_Aren't you curious as to why I called you?_"

Shizuo was silent, his fury diminishing slightly. Until this moment he hadn't cared why Izaya had called him. He'd only imagined reaching across the line, wrapping his fingers around Izaya's neck and strangling him to death. The pleasant image calmed him slightly and he smirked.

Now that Izaya mentioned it, why _was _he calling Shizuo? It was probably just to cause him trouble, but this wasn't like the flea's usual methods of pissing him off.

He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to hear the flea's reasons. This was probably just some screwed up game designed to make his life miserable, knowing Izaya. He grimaced, urging himself to hang up the phone, but ultimately he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to know.

"_Shizu-chaaaaan. Say something. Your silence is boring me."_

"Why are you calling me? What game are you playing?" he growled, annoyed by Izaya's tone. "I told you to stay out of my life, and keep me out of your sick, manipulative games, you stupid flea."

"_You're right, this is a game, but this time I'm not the puppet master. Sadly, I find myself to be one of the victims being manipulated by someone more powerful than myself. At least, only for the moment." _Was it his imagination or did Izaya's breathing sound a little loud, like he was trying and failing to control himself? "_And believe me, it was not my choice to involve you in all this. If I needed help, my first option wouldn't have been a brutish protozoan lacking half a brain."_

He roared, kicking his coffee table so hard it flew into the wall opposite. He could faintly hear the shocked screams of his neighbors as the table crashed into the wall and splintered, a wooden mess. The table was followed by his fist, which punched a hole in the wall and sent the plaster crumbling to the ground.

Frustrated that Izaya wasn't here for him to take his anger out on, he gripped his head, snarling.

"_Ah, haha, Shizu-chan calm down. No need to get so worked up, haha," _Izaya said. If the bodyguard had been any calmer he would have noticed that the informant's tone had become nervous and his words were almost pleading. He didn't hear the wavering in his voice or the light fear, otherwise he would have stopped in his rage. As it was, he was seeing red, infuriated by Izaya's insult and all he could think about was killing his enemy.

"You _bastard_! I swear I'm going to go to your apartment and break both of your legs!"

"_You do that; it's not like you'll find me there anyway. I'm not in my apartment." _

"I'm going to fucking _kill _you, you little flea!"

"_Do whatever you want, Shizu-chan. Just don't break your phone and don't hang up_." His tone was completely serious and caught the other man completely off guard. He couldn't imagine why Izaya was so adamant for him to stay on the phone. "_Your number is the only one I can call._"

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Shizuo snapped, no longer pissed off. This conversation had taken a very confusing turn and he wasn't sure he was keeping up with it properly. Izaya was being too cryptic for his tastes and if he didn't explain himself soon, he would just hang up; he was getting tired of this game very fast.

"_Well, you see, I'm currently in a…precarious situation._"

"Meaning?"

"_I'm being held hostage…somewhat, by someone who I've managed to piss off in the past. They wanted revenge and I'm now currently trapped with a phone that doesn't work. The only person who I can call is you or my captor. And I highly doubt my kidnapper would be willing to help me out of my predicament. So, unfortunately for me, the only person who can help me is you," _Izaya explained, obviously gritting his teeth. Shizuo felt a twinge of pleasure knowing how much it pained the flea to ask for his help and, before he could help himself, laughter bubbled up inside of him and escaped his lips.

He could hear an angry hiss as he laughed, highly amused at Izaya's situation. He could just imagine Izaya sitting in some cell, legs chained to the wall with nothing but a cell phone that would only dial his worst enemy's number. The image was hilarious and for a few seconds he couldn't contain his laughter, ignoring the tense, furious silence on the other side of the line.

When he finally finished, he heard Izaya snarl, "_Are you done with your laughing now, you dumb brute?_"

"Ahaha…don't insult me, Izaya. I'm the only one who can help you right now," Shizuo mocked, face split in half from his grin. He reached forward for his cigarettes, popping one out of the pack and putting it in between his lips.

"_There's nothing funny about this situation. Nothing at all._"

"I find it hilarious that you're getting what you deserve. Finally someone you manipulated came back for a little revenge and you're getting a taste of your own medicine. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard," he said, lighting his cigarette. He put his legs up on the couch, enjoying this conversation and no longer feeling the need to crack his phone in half.

"_Oh I assure you, Shizuo, I have never subjected anyone to what I'm going through right now-"_

"No, you've probably done much worse, being the lousy bastard you are."

There was a pause and Izaya made a strangled sound, something between a laugh and a sob. The sound made Shizuo frown and sit up slightly, wondering if he'd misread the situation. Maybe this was worse than he'd suspected and Izaya just wasn't telling him the full truth. He wasn't sure how he'd feel if Izaya were actually in danger. It's not like he cared about the flea. But it didn't mean he wanted him tortured and killed.

The only person allowed to kill Izaya was himself.

"_Are you going to help me, Shizu-chan?_"

Shizuo thought for a second, playing with the idea. He was curious about the situation and kind of wanted to know the extent of this so-called "game", even though it sounded dangerous. Mostly he wanted to know why Izaya's voice was shaking as he spoke, and why his breathing sounded so harsh and _loud _over the line.

"I will, if you tell me one thing."

"_What? And hurry up, I want to get out of this place as soon as possible. I miss the comfort of my luxurious apartment, which you couldn't afford in a million years, by the way."_

"Aha, I'm going to ignore that for now. I'll break your face when I find you…but no, I want you to tell me what you did to deserve this."

"_Eh?" _

"I want to know what you did that finally came back and bit you in the ass," Shizuo said, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Izaya had fucked over a lot of people, had manipulated almost everyone around him and would not hesitate to ruin the lives of anyone who associated with him. So who had finally decided to one-up him? What had he done that would merit something as bad as being captured and forced to demand the help of his most hated enemy?

Shizuo wasn't expecting anything particularly exciting. Many people Izaya associated with, he assumed, would probably have little regard for how much a life was worth. He'd heard of men so powerful they would shoot a human being simply for saying one thing out of line. He never wanted to meet a man like that, but he was sure that Izaya knew several.

"…_and if I tell you…you'll help me?"_

"Yeah. That's all I want to know. Spill, or I hang up this phone right now."

"_His name is Daichi Nakamura,"_ Izaya said, before pausing and obviously cursing himself for answering so quickly. He had just revealed how desperate he was to Shizuo, who said nothing even though it was a perfect opportunity to mock him. "_He was the head of one of the biggest drug dealing businesses in Shinjuku and I've sold him several bits of information in the past, mostly concerning his rivals."_

A drug dealer. Of course.

"_A few months ago a group of his men defected and disappeared. Nakamura demanded I tell him where they were but I told him that I didn't know. He had no idea that they were in fact paying me to keep their hiding place a secret and were planning to overthrow him and ruin his business. They also paid me to give them information about Nakamura and his dealings. Everything I knew – which was everything they needed. A couple of weeks ago they walked straight into his warehouses and slaughtered every single one of his men and left alive those they had been conspiring with all along."_

Shizuo felt his jaw tighten, thinking of the bloodshed. So many humans, slaughtered like they didn't matter. Sure, they were drug dealers, but he still didn't think that mass murder was the answer to anything.

"_Nakamura was left alive – to humiliate him, you see. The men took the drugs and left the city to go establish their own business, leaving his in tatters. From what I heard later on, Nakamura lost all of his money and his home. He was forced to send his children to go live with his parents and about two weeks after the incident his wife, Hana Nakamura, hanged herself."_

He could feel the vein in his temple throbbing.

"She _died_?" he hissed, clutching the phone tightly. "Izaaa_yaaaaaaaaaa_-"

"_Oi, it wasn't like I knew she'd kill herself. I did nothing wrong-"_

"Except you sold the information leading to Nakamura's downfall and his wife killing herself."

"_He was a drug dealer and a bad man-"_

"But his wife wasn't, I'll bet," Shizuo snarled, standing up and seeing a dark red mist creep into the edges of his vision. "I'll bet she was a perfectly nice woman up until the moment she hanged herself, you _sick bastard_."

"_Shizu-chan, calm down, the phone, don't break the-"_

"Shut up about the phone!"

"_You said you'd help me, you promised-"_

"Yeah, well, I lied. I wouldn't help you, even if you were on the brink of death," he said, then hung up. He went to change into his bartender suit and left his apartment, heading down to get something to eat.

He left his phone on the couch, not even sparing it a second glance.

- 0 -

- 0 -

Please review. I love hearing feedback.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes: **Wow, it took ages to write the next chapter. I'm so bummed out right now because, thanks to the stupid snow, my Christmas plans are all ruined since I couldn't get any flights out of here. And the minor depression sinks in…but at least, now I have time to write.

Please review!

**Chapter Three**

"Pick up, Shizu-chan! Pick up, pick up, pick up," Izaya repeated, squeezing his eyes shut as the ringing continued, but nobody picked up. A few tears of anger squeezed out of his eyes and he yelled angrily, slamming his hands against the wall as his call was sent to voicemail. He hung up, cursing and punching the wall again.

He called a second time…

Then a third time…

Finally, after his sixth call it finally filtered through his jumbled thoughts that Shizuo wasn't going to pick up, that he'd actually left him stranded and trapped in a freaking _coffin_.

Okay, not that Shizuo knew he was in a coffin. Izaya had made sure not to describe the details of his situation, merely let Shizuo know that he was being held somewhere against his will with nothing but this phone and the bodyguard's number. His pride hadn't allowed him to reveal where he was, hadn't allowed him to reveal his true fear of how dire this situation was. Shizuo probably thought he was just tied up in a room, only in danger of starving to death or getting a little roughed up by his captors. He probably found the situation hilarious – considering he hated Izaya and wanted him to suffer.

The informant dropped the phone, gasping for breath and hissing vicious insults under his breath.

"Fuck, it's hot. Why isn't there some goddamned air conditioning in here?" he wheezed, laughing softly, hysterically. It was stuffy, but he didn't think he was in danger of running out of oxygen yet. He wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious and in the coffin, but he hoped it wasn't long.

He tried not to imagine the moment he'd realized just how little oxygen he would have left, and the moment when it would all run out and he'd be left coughing and gasping for breath, clawing desperately at his wooden prison until his fingers bled and his nails broke and-

The very thought made terror bubble up in his mind and he inhaled quickly, the exhaled as slowly as possibly, ignoring his shaky breath and the fact that his limbs felt like they were made of water.

He turned his body and heard a strange sound – the sound of a heavy object hitting wood.

"What the…"

It was coming from the pocket of his fur-lined jacket. He reached in – a wonderfully familiar move – and pulled out his beloved switchblade. He sobbed with happiness, not even sure why he was so happy with this discovery. Perhaps it was just the familiar weight in his hand, or the sudden realization that he had other options besides suffocating to death.

Okay, so the choice was between slitting his throat (or wrists) and running out of air. It was a shitty choice. But it still gave him some semblance of control, which was what he needed right now. Control.

He flicked the blade open, feeling calmer than he had been two minutes ago, and admired it for a second. Then he slid the blade into the crack between the planks a few inches to the right his head and jiggled it slightly. There was slight resistance on the other side, but it wasn't much. It was probably dirt, but he ignored the thought, hoping against all odds that maybe he wasn't actually buried. Maybe the coffin was just sitting on the ground and he was making a big deal out of nothing.

He knew it was a stupid thought. The muffle thuds he heard when hitting the walls of the coffin indicated that he was surrounded on all sides by _something_. But he shook this thought away and began to work fervently and cutting a small strip of the plank away, right next to the crack. It took several minutes, but he managed to hack off a small sliver of the plank, widening an inch of the cracks ever so slightly. He dug his knife into the small sliver and frowned when the tiniest amount of _something_ fell through the crack and onto the wood next to him.

He scrambled for the flashlight, gripping it tightly and shone it onto whatever had fallen.

Dirt. Moist, crumbly dirt.

His breath hitched and he moaned, shutting his eyes. He really was buried in the ground. There was no denying it now.

He wondered how deep underground he was, how far under the surface he was buried. It couldn't be that deep if he was getting a signal. Maybe if he weren't trapped in this damn coffin he could somehow struggle to the top, dig himself out. The dirt wouldn't be that resistant, wouldn't be that compact yet considering he hadn't been down here for that long.

He probably could have if…if…_if…_

"Damn it," he muttered, feeling his anger growing at that. "Damn it. Shit, shit! Fuck! _FUCK! Fuck you, Nakamura! Fuck you and your wife! And fuck you Shizu-chan! I hope you all rot in Hell you bastards!" _

He grabbed his blade and began stabbing the wood viciously, uncaring of when his hand slipped and he sliced his palm slightly, uncaring of when he nearly stabbed his own fingers. The blade almost broke several times when he stabbed it into the corners. Eventually he stopped yelling and dropped the blade, hearing it clatter onto the wood next to him.

He pressed his palms against the wood, feeling the dents where his knife had made an impression on the material. He calmed himself, knowing that all he was doing was wasting precious oxygen. None of this panicking would help him at all. The only one who could help him had currently abandoned him and left him to die.

He sighed, feeling ashamed. Ashamed for acting so hysterically.

Ashamed for acting so _human_.

- 0 –

- 0 –

He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt inside of him. It followed him wherever he went, no matter what he tried to do to forget what had just happened.

He went down to go have some ramen, then could barely step foot inside the shop. Then he went for a walk in the park but about two minutes after entering the park he let out a growl of frustration and left. He even considered watching a movie just to distract him, but he knew he'd just walk out.

He couldn't understand why he felt so damn guilty about this.

Izaya was a manipulative, evil person, and he deserved what was coming to him. He had spent his time ruining other people's lives, so why shouldn't he get a little payback for once? He doubted that Izaya had ever felt remorse for what he'd done. The flea was probably incapable of feeling guilt or shame. He probably hadn't even spared a thought for Nakamura's poor wife.

Shizuo didn't give a damn about the drug dealer, but he hadn't been able to shake his rage at the thought of some poor, innocent woman's life crumbling around her until she was driven to kill herself.

_But it's not like Izaya wanted to hurt her. He didn't even _want _to hurt anyone. He just did his job. _

As much as Shizuo hated the flea, he found discomfort in the image of Izaya tied to a chair somewhere, bruised and beaten and bleeding and starving…probably cursing Shizuo right now. As much as he hated the flea, he couldn't justify the fact that he'd completely abandoned someone in his time of need. He'd always considered himself superior to the flea - knowing that no matter how many times Izaya called him a brute or a monster, the informant was the one who truly lacked any sliver of humanity.

But now he had to reconsider this. He'd turned a purposeful deaf ear to Izaya's pleas, knowing that he was in danger of maybe even dying. Knowing that he was the only person who could help Izaya. And worst of all, knowing just how much pride Izaya had had to push down just to make the call.

"Ahhh, shit. Why the hell do I even care?" he growled, hitting himself in the head to clear his thoughts. A few people glanced at him, startled. Then once they realized who it was they were staring at they quickly averted their eyes and continued walking, just a little faster than before. A troubled Shizuo wasn't considered a good thing by anybody.

He tried to clear his head, convince himself that it had just been a stupid prank and he was falling for it by letting these doubts crowd his head. But he couldn't shake the images in his head and the mere idea that maybe, for once, Izaya wasn't manipulating him for his own sick entertainment.

Finally Shizuo relented, trudging back to his apartment at a semi-rapid pace. Everyone who saw him coming gave him a wide berth, knowing the dark cloud hanging over his head. Obviously he wasn't in a good mood, and nobody was stupid enough to approach him. He sent a death glare to anyone who dared to come within a 3-meter radius of him.

Once he reached his apartment he made a beeline for his phone, which was no longer ringing. Izaya must have given up. He felt another inexplicable flash of guilt when he saw that he had six missed calls from him. The flea was persistent at least.

Though he still felt like this could just be some trick. He could just be playing right into Izaya's hands, letting himself be manipulated by the flea just like all those other times.

He stared down at his phone, then decided to call Shinra. Maybe he would know something about this. At least, it would be the safest route to take.

"_Hello? Shizuo? Is something wrong?_"

Shinra sounded tired, even though it wasn't at all early.

"Why the hell do you assume something's wrong?" Shizuo muttered grumpily. Did people just associate him with bad things? Couldn't he just call to chat?

"_Uhh…no reason_," Shinra said nervously, obviously noticing the warning tone in his friend's voice. "_You just usually never call me unless it's an emergency or something._"

"You sound tired."

"_Eheheh, my darling Celty kept me up all night with-_"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear about that," he said, cringing at the imagery. "Look, I need you to call Izaya."

There was a surprised pause.

"_Uh…what? Why do you want me to-"_

"Don't ask me why. Just do it," Shizuo said. He was met with a hesitant silence – not that he could blame Shinra. The demand was highly suspicious and the doctor obviously suspected that this wouldn't lead to a happy ending. He most likely didn't want to be a catalyst in some catastrophic turn of events. "It's an emergency, Shinra. I promise I won't do anything to hurt him."

"…_you promise? I don't want Izaya coming after me for revenge._"

"Look, I'm not asking for his number. I just want you to call him, and if he picks up don't tell him I asked you to do this. Make up some random excuse, yeah?"

"_Fine, fine. I'll call back in a second._"

Shizuo waited impatiently, his hand wrapped tightly around the phone. For some reason he felt like every second counted. There was some strange urgency that he hadn't felt before and now it was bothering him and he willed Shinra to hurry up. He tapped his fingers against the table.

What was taking Shinra so long?

A few more minutes passed and just as he was about to call Shinra, his phone vibrated.

"What did he say?" Shizuo asked gruffly, not sure what to expect.

"_He…didn't answer his cell phone. It was turned off._" Shinra sounded slightly anxious, maybe even…concerned? "_Izaya never turns off his phone."_

"Why the hell did you take so long if his phone was turned off? How many times did you call him?"

"_Twice. Then I dialed the number to the phone in his apartment and spoke to Namie."_

"Who?"

"_She works for him," _Shinra said, his voice still heavy with worry. "_She says that he's disappeared since last night. Apparently when she left for home he was still in his apartment, but when she arrived today he was gone. It's not unusual for Izaya to disappear, but it is unusual for him not to have his phone turned on._"

"Oh…" Shizuo felt slightly sick, starting to understand that maybe this wasn't just some stupid prank. Maybe Izaya really was in trouble after all. And Shizuo had just hung up on him, leaving him to possibly die.

True, he hated Izaya, but he wasn't a monster. There was a difference between wishing someone dead and actually killing them. Or letting them die.

"_Do you know something about this, Shizuo? Is there something wrong with Izaya?_

"No, nothing's wrong. I just…had a feeling," he said lamely. Even the ever-gullible Shinra wouldn't be fooled by his pathetic excuse of a lie. The doctor was silent and probably carefully trying to choose his next words without pissing him off.

"_If something's wrong, Shizuo…_" he began, sounding unsure. "_Izaya's my friend. I care about him, even though he's not always a good person. Celty too. You're hiding something from me, and it's serious._"

Shizuo sighed, rubbing his forehead. He didn't want to reveal anything to Shinra until he knew exactly what he was dealing with, in case he was dragging them along some wild goose chase that would just get everyone in unnecessary trouble.

"I can't tell you anything, Shinra. I have to go," he blurted, hanging up the phone and feeling guilty. He went to his received calls to call back Izaya, resolving not to get angry and this time, to listen to what Izaya had to say with the sincere intention of helping him.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes: **Oh, I forgot to mention this in the previous chapters – 'hanged' is the grammatically correct past tense of 'to hang' when it refers to either a person hanging themselves (suicide) or being hanged as a form of execution. Just to clear that up in case the use bothered anyone if they thought it was incorrect.

Also, I've decided to write that 'superpowers' story. Just to give a little taster of what it will be about, I'm going to post the summary:

_AU. Super powered government agents Heiwajima Shizuo and Orihara Izaya are partnered together on a relatively simple search-and-rescue mission. That is, it seems simple until Shizuo is given the instructions to permanently silence his partner… _

Yes, I am shameless. But anyway, put me on your story alert list if you're interested in reading this because I'll probably be putting it up either during the last few chapters of this story or after this story is done. And it will be full of drama, action and tons and tons of angst. Oh, and a lot of Shizaya interaction, of course.

But anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter Four**

Izaya had spent the better part of about twenty minutes thinking over what he could do to try and escape. Sadly, even his highly developed thinking didn't seem to be very helpful in this situation, considering his lack of moving space, helpful tools or inability to do anything drastic without having several feet worth of dirt crush him.

The only tools he had at his disposal were a knife, a flashlight and a cell phone.

The cell phone so far was proving useless. He'd tried calling Nakamura in the hopes that he might either be able to manipulate him into changing his mind, or at least give away some hint about his location. The man hadn't picked up, probably having fun imagining Izaya desperately waiting at the other end for him to answer the call.

The only other person he could contact was being an asshole. He'd irritably carved a crude picture of Shizuo being chopped in half onto the wood in front of him in one of his calmer moments. This had made him laugh until he was breathless and then he'd begun to cough, and suddenly it hadn't seemed so funny anymore. He was really, truly dying and there was nothing he could do except slowly go mad.

His legs had begun cramping up painfully from the uncomfortable position he was in and no amount of twisting or turning would relieve him from the pain. That was the moment when he really began to despise his situation. He couldn't even reach down to massage his calf, which was throbbing painfully, because the coffin was too small.

A terrible itch had suddenly made itself known at the sole of his feet and now the pain and the burning were driving him absolutely insane. Almost even more so than the heat and after a few minutes he'd almost sobbed from the delirium caused by the horrific _itching_.

He was pretty sure he was losing his mind. It wasn't a familiar sensation – not being in control of the situation. He was helpless and he hated it.

The silence was suddenly broken by loud, blaring ringing and he shrieked uncharacteristically, jolting upwards. His forehead slammed into the wooden wall and he swore, stars appearing in his vision.

Ignoring the pain in his head he scrambled for his phone blindly and brought it to his ear, feeling dizzy.

"N-Nakamura-san?" he gasped, rubbing his forehead.

"_No. It's…it's Shizuo." _

It took about three seconds for Izaya to recover from the shock – _Shizuo had called him back!_ – and form a coherent sentence. Despite the unimaginable relief coursing through his body he couldn't help but feel bitter.

"Ah, Shizu-chan. I see you've decided to grace me with your attention," he said sarcastically. "Did you call me back to mock me? Maybe kick me while I'm down or get a couple of shots in before I kick the bucket?" Inside he screamed at himself for being so stupid. A ray of hope was presenting itself and he was just batting it away, baiting the monster until he hung up again…permanently this time.

"_No. I figured maybe this time you were telling the truth and really needed my help_."

"Ah. So you're going to dangle the promise of rescue in front of me, then snatch it away at the last minute for some petty vengeance? That's not like you, Shizu-chan." He closed his eyes, feeling a current of self-loathing run through him. He couldn't stop the words escaping his lips. Shizuo had battered his already hurt ego by hanging up on him the first time and he needed some way to recover his pride. All he could do was hope that at some point self-preservation kicked in and shut him up before he indirectly caused his own demise.

He could almost hear the bodyguard's rising frustration at his lack of cooperation:

"_Damn it, I'm trying to help you, flea! If you're going to be a dick, then I might as well just leave you-"_

"_No_!"

Ah, there it was.

His outburst was met with a shocked silence and he took a shuddering, painful breath. He spoke:

"I woke up about half an hour ago in a coffin, buried underground somewhere. I can barely breathe, I can barely move, and all I have with me is this phone with your number on it. If you hang up I'll die…I'll suffocate…"

He bit back a sob, feeling the full force of the hopelessness of his situation as he exposed his fears to his worst enemy. It was downright _humiliating_, that's what it was. But there was no mocking laugh across the line, no words of satisfaction.

"_A coffin._" It wasn't a question. "_What kind of sick psycho would…fuck…that's just-"_

"My thoughts exactly," Izaya chuckled weakly.

"_Do you know where you are? I could dig you out_." He heard Shizuo shuffle around, his voice – although not _eager _to help – questioning and nervous.

"What? Just like that, Shizu-chan?"

"_What the hell do you mean?_"

"I would have expected to have to beg for your help. Maybe even offer you something worthwhile before you even considered helping me," Izaya said truthfully. This was why he hated Shizuo; he was just so damn unpredictable. He couldn't be manipulated, now matter how much Izaya tried. The informant could manipulate people around him, convince them to attack Shizuo, but he could never drag Shizuo into his 'games'. Instead he was forced to bring the 'games' to Shizuo.

Shizuo made a strange noise. "_I'm not helping you flea. I'm going to find you, dig you out of there, and then beat you to death myself." _

The informant rolled his eyes. "Nakamura-san didn't tell me where he buried me. He only gave me instructions that you were to go to my apartment, collect a suitcase full of money and deliver it to him as soon as possible."

"_A suitcase? That's it?" _Shizuo sounded baffled. Vaguely, Izaya realized that this was probably the only time they'd had a civil conversation – ignoring the grim topic – in all the years they had known each other.

"It's in my bedroom, on the top shelf of the closet. Once you find it, call me and I'll tell you the combination."

Shizuo grunted, and Izaya heard the sound of the door closing. He wasn't sure whether to hang up or remain on the phone. On one hand, the fact that Shizuo was on the other end of the line was enough to disgust him, but on the other hand he really didn't want to be alone. That would subject him to the torture of having to listen to his own breathing and attempt to calculate just how many more breaths he could possibly take.

Okay, maybe Shizuo was the lesser of two evils in this situation. Not that he'd let the monster know that.

"_Do you know how much time you have left?_" Shizuo asked suddenly, sounding unsure of himself. Izaya heard him calling for a taxi and sighed with relief, knowing that the man was doing _something_. "_You said you woke up in the coffin. Do you know how long you were in there?_"

"No…though I don't think it was very long. It's hot and suffocating in here, but I don't think I'm going to run out of air…yet," he answered matter-of-factly. Then his bitterness resurfaced. "I'm sure that the time you spent ignoring my calls didn't help my oxygen supply. But don't worry, Shizu-chan, I passed the time thinking about all my sins and the people I've hurt and what a terrible, _terrible_ person I am."

There was only silence after his sarcastic remarks, and he could tell that his words had cut deep. It was obvious that Shizuo actually felt guilty for wasting so much time, especially now that he knew the situation the informant was in. He doubted that he actually cared about Izaya himself; it was more likely his conscience was weighing heavy on him for contributing to the possible death of another human being.

"_Sorry for…not believing you the first time,"_ the other man said, the words alien-like considering they were directed at him. No one _ever _apologized to Izaya.

"Ah yes, your apologies are almost as indispensable as oxygen. Maybe if you keep apologizing I'll live longer," Izaya hissed scathingly.

"_You've spent your life manipulating everyone around you. How was I supposed to think you were telling the truth?_"

"You think I would ever bruise my ego by asking for help from a lowlife Neanderthal unless it was necessary?" He could almost hear the phone cracking under the pressure of Shizuo's fist and he felt a twinge of fear.

"_I should just leave you-"_

"But you won't," he interrupted, sounding more confident than he felt. He wasn't really sure what Shizuo was going to do; the monster was always so damn unpredictable. "Your conscience won't let you."

A pause.

"Hehe, looks like I know you a little too well, eh, Shizu-chan? If I die…you'll feel guilty for the rest of your life. Because even though you hate me, you never really wanted me dead," he said. He heard a spluttering sound and chuckled as Shizuo struggled to deny his statement. "Please hurry up, Shizu-chan. It's hot in here."

He hung up, feeling a second of regret as suddenly he was plunged into that dreaded silence again. Just imagining the bodyguard's reaction at the other end was highly satisfying, but he wondered if he hadn't pushed the man too far. He just couldn't help the cruel words tumbling out of his mouth, straining their already unsteady alliance. It was just in his nature to push the other man's buttons, to piss him off to no end. And unfortunately this instinct seemed to override his desire to survive every once in a while.

It was strange, having Shizuo helping him, having the bodyguard feel something other than hate towards him. Not unpleasant, just strange. And what was even more curious? He didn't think he hated Shizuo either.

- 0 –

- 0 –

Shizuo kicked the door down with ease, barely putting any strength into his kick. He had his hands in his pockets, one wrapped around his cell phone, and a lighted cigarette in his mouth. Anyone else would have thought he was on a casual stroll rather than a mission to rescue his worst enemy. There was only the smallest amount of urgency in his movements. It didn't reflect the turmoil that was in his mind.

Currently his thoughts were racing and he could barely think straight. Images of the informant trapped in some tiny coffin completely in the dark kept flashing through his mind and he didn't know why it bothered him so much, just that it did. He didn't like the thought of anyone in that situation, but why was his heart racing and his chest hurting at the mere thought of Izaya's predicament?

He had a feeling that the guilt of leaving the man in the coffin for so long had something to do with it. He hadn't been able to handle the truth and had allowed his emotions to contradict his own actions. He _knew _that Izaya was a bastard, and yet when the informant proved him right he had gotten angry and abandoned him. It hadn't been fair of him to back the informant into a corner like that, and then get angry when he'd told the truth that Shizuo had been waiting to hear all along.

Stepping over the broken door, he entered the apartment, looking around. He heard a soft cough and turned his head towards the sound, noticing a woman standing next to the bookshelf. She was dressed in green and had a number of books in her arm.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"Namie. And you're Heiwajima Shizuo. What are you doing here?" She eyed the door with a raised eyebrow, seemingly unaffected by his strength. Shizuo recognized the name from when Shinra had mentioned her. She worked for Izaya.

"None of your business. Get out."

She stepped away from the bookshelf, placing the books on the desk near the window. "Izaya isn't here right now."

"I know that. I don't care."

She shrugged, grabbing her bag and leaving. Even though she didn't seem intimidated by him, he noticed she still walked a considerable distance from him when moving towards the door. She barely spared him a glance as she left and he waited until her footsteps could no longer be heard.

Once he found Izaya's bedroom he grabbed a chair and placed it next to the door, then began carelessly flinging out whatever was inside. He didn't put much effort into taking care of Izaya's things, merely threw them out behind him. Truth be told, the cruel words the man had said before still stung.

He pulled out several boxes and tossed them behind him, hearing a loud shattering sound. "Whoops." Then he finally found the safe in the corner of the shelf; all the other things had covered it.

He dialed the number of Izaya's phone. The safe required a 4-digit numeric code, which he couldn't even begin to guess.

Izaya answered immediately, of course. What the hell else would he be doing?

"_Did you find the safe?_"

"Yeah. What's the code?"

"_6-8-2-3._"

Shizuo pressed the numbers, wondering whether they meant anything to Izaya. He refrained from asking, deciding to allow that small privacy. "I kicked out your assistant, by the way. Or whatever she is."

"_Namie? Did she-_"

"What the fuck?" Shizuo said, interrupting the brunet. He reached inside the safe and pulled out a note sitting on top of the briefcase. The note contained an address and underneath it was written, '_Deliver the briefcase to this address._' Obviously Nakamura had written it.

"_What? Is something wrong?_" He could hear a waver of fear in Izaya's tone.

"There was a note in the safe telling me an address."

"_Oh…weren't we expecting something like that?_"

"If Nakamura managed to get into the fucking safe, why didn't he just take the money? Why go through all this? To piss me off?" he snapped. Izaya laughed harshly, condescendingly. Knowing that Izaya was mocking him in some way made Shizuo's blood boil. He didn't say anything though, knowing that if he lost his temper he would do something stupid.

"_Don't you get it, Shizu-chan? This is all a _game_. Nakamura's doing this as revenge for what I did to him. The money's just an added bonus – something he'd take anyway once I died._"

"I don't understand. Why bring me into this? What's the point of me delivering the money?"

"_As a last blow to my ego he wanted to have me beg you for help. He probably thought you would just let me die."_

Shizuo stilled, his hand reaching for the suitcase. He felt a stab of hurt at that remark. Did people really think that badly of him? Was he so much of a monster that people believed he'd just heartlessly let another human being die? Granted, he hadn't kept his hatred of Izaya a secret, but he would never stoop so low as to just leave him to die in such a horrific situation.

He pulled the suitcase out with more force than necessary and slammed the safe shut, wincing at the loud _clang_. He was pretty sure he'd just broken it. Worse still, Izaya must have heard it.

"_Ah, you don't like what he said. Though I'm sure you can understand why he said such a thing."_

"Shut up, flea. Just…shut up," he replied, his tone heavy with humiliation. He couldn't even figure out a good response and it wasn't like he could reach into the phone and punch Izaya. His chest was constricted and he just wanted to get this damn suitcase delivered and then go home and sleep. He was sick of feeling ashamed and guilty. He was sick of feeling like some…_creature_. "I get it – I'm a monster. You don't have to rub it in my face."

Izaya didn't reply and Shizuo barely gave a damn. He left the apartment and headed for the elevator. He was so caught up in his thoughts he nearly missed what Izaya said next:

"_I guess that you're proving him wrong, then."_

"Huh?" He frowned.

"_Well, you didn't just leave me to die. You're helping me now, Shizu-chan, even though you hate me. So I guess that means…you aren't really a monster after all_. _I was wrong about you," _Izaya said, his voice low. Shizuo frowned, feeling a strange fluttering in his stomach.

Was Izaya…comforting him? The informant had never been so kind to him; especially to the point of admitting he was wrong. He didn't sound sarcastic or mocking. And somehow the words made Shizuo feel good inside.

"Fl-I mean…Izaya," he began, licking his lips. The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside. He clutched the handle of the briefcase tightly. "Uh…thank you. For saying that."

Izaya laughed at this, a genuine laugh, and Shizuo's lips twitched when he realized how much he liked that sound.

"_Shouldn't I be the one thanking you, Shizu-chan?_"


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes: **God it's ridiculous how much work I'm putting off to get this done. I think the reason I'm even writing so fast is because it's a good distraction from work. But it's hard to be worried because I actually managed to fly out despite the snow and am currently enjoying the hot weather here. And I've still managed to find time to write!

I hope you are all having great Christmas holidays like I am. I wanted to put this up for New Years, so it was special, but that failed.

Hope you like the chapter and please review!

**Chapter Five**

He couldn't say that he was really surprised to see his friend, 'The Headless Rider', waiting in front of Izaya's building when he came downstairs. He sighed, preparing himself for their conversation. Even after finding out the truth he didn't want to involve Celty or Shinra. If they tried to get involved, Nakamura would most likely never reveal where Izaya was. It didn't need to be said that the man probably didn't want anyone outside of Izaya or Shizuo to be involved in this situation.

She was holding her PDA, typing rapidly as she usually did. She looked up as he exited the building and thrust the PDA in his face.

_[Namie called Shinra a few minutes ago to ask why you'd broken down Izaya's door, even when you knew he wasn't there.]_

He frowned. Celty wouldn't have gotten here so quickly if she'd left just after Namie's call. He'd barely been in the apartment for five minutes:

"Why are you here?"

She typed quickly and he could tell that she was slightly tense.

_[Shinra told me about your call. He was worried about Izaya, so I came to check on him.] _

"Ah, right." He wasn't exactly sure what to do now. He was in a hurry – considering Izaya's situation it wasn't really a good idea to just stand around making idle chit chat – but he didn't want to just ignore Celty. She was his friend and Izaya's friend too. She deserved to know a little about the situation. But not enough that it would get any of them hurt.

_[Shizuo, do you know what's wrong with Izaya? What are you hiding from us?]_

He sighed, dropping his cigarette onto the ground. "Izaya's in trouble. He called me a while ago to ask for my help. He's being…_held_ by some guy called Nakamura and the only way he can be released is if I deliver this" – he held up the briefcase – "to Nakamura as soon as possible. I kinda have a time limit."

She stared at him for a minute. Or at least, that's what the action would be if she'd had eyes. But he knew that she was shocked by his admission and he raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to ask. _He _wasn't going to bring up what she was obviously thinking.

_[Why are you helping Izaya? I thought you hated him.]_

"I do," he said hurriedly, though the words felt strange on his tongue. "I just…I'm not _cruel_, you know. I'm not just going to leave him to die."

She nodded in understanding and he smiled genuinely. Celty understood that he wasn't a monster, that he was a sincerely good person who had been unfortunately cursed with uncontrollable strength and a short temper. He liked that she saw him as a human and not as a monster.

Though strangely, knowing this fact didn't give him the soft warmth that he'd felt when Izaya had said those kind words. Maybe it was because Celty had always been his friend, whereas hearing his enemy say it made it more meaningful.

_[Let me go with you. This Nakamura guy could be dangerous.]_

"No. It's too risky to involve you-" he was cut off by Celty shaking her head fervently.

_[I can take care of myself. You know that.]_

He chuckled. Of course Celty could take care of herself. He had never doubted her capabilities for even a second. "It's not that. I'm just worried that if Nakamura finds out that I involved you in this, he'll be pissed off enough to…uh…kill Izaya." He'd wanted to say '_never tell me where Izaya's buried'_ but he had managed to stop himself. He still didn't want anyone to know the truth.

He could tell that his friend was still perplexed by his sudden compassion for Izaya. Sure, he had professed a wish to allow the flea to live, but to go to such lengths to actually help him was puzzling to her. He couldn't blame her for her reactions.

The rider nodded again and typed something into her PDA. Shizuo glanced around, grimacing when he couldn't spot a taxi in sight. The address Nakamura had given wasn't that far, but he didn't want to waste any time walking to the location. Especially if Izaya happened to be buried somewhere particularly far – that would be a problem.

He glanced at the PDA:

_[Can I at least give you a ride there?]_

Now there was an idea…

"All right, I guess that would be fine. But park out of sight, yeah? I don't want Nakamura to see you and get mad."

- 0 –

- 0 -

The address was a medium-sized apartment building, maybe eight floors at the most. It was a modernized building, much like Izaya's apartment building, and clearly only meant for people with a lot of money. Shizuo wouldn't be able to afford this place in a million years and he knew it.

Celty stopped a few blocks away, not wanting to alert anyone to her presence. She had driven faster than ever, sensing Shizuo's urgency and after a few close calls they'd arrived without incident or accident, and most importantly without alerting the authorities.

He thanked Celty for driving him to the place and she tapped on her PDA:

_[I'll wait here for you.]_

She wouldn't change her mind even though he tried to convince her otherwise. Then again, he hadn't spent much time convincing her. Time was already being wasted and every time he thought of Izaya waiting in that coffin, clueless as to what was happening, he felt a surge of guilt for not being faster.

He hurriedly said goodbye to his friend and ran to the apartment, nearly bowling over a young teenage girl in his hurry. Then he flew up the stairs to the sixth floor, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. He stopped at apartment 613 – what he assumed was Nakamura's apartment or the apartment of someone he knew - and knocked on the door impatiently.

For a few seconds no one answered and he wondered whether in his rush he'd read the numbers wrong. He took out a cigarette, lit it and was about to reach into his pocket to take out the note when the door opened and a man in a suit glared down at him. The man was tall, at least two meters tall, and well built. Shizuo immediately tensed as if he sensed an attack and lifted up the briefcase slightly, either to protect it or use it as a weapon.

He could take this man, who was obviously a bodyguard, but he didn't want to waste time. Fortunately the man spoke before Shizuo drew the wrong conclusions and attacked:

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"I'm Shizuo. I'm here to deliver the suitcase to Nakamura," he said, lifting up the case for the man to see. The man's eyes settled on the suitcase, then on his hair. He obviously recognized Shizuo and nodded, opening the door. Shizuo was surprised to see that even after identifying himself the man didn't seem to fear him in any way. Even some of the strongest people showed apprehension when they came face to face with Heiwajima Shizuo, with the exception of Simon and Izaya who wasn't so much strong as he was dangerous.

Shizuo entered the apartment slowly, still unsure of an attack. He braced himself when the bodyguard reached up-

_Fuck, is he going to attack me?_

-and plucked the cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Nakamura-sama doesn't like people smoking in his apartment," he said flatly. Shizuo clenched his fists but said nothing, walking straight to the sofa and seating himself down. "Don't touch anything and don't move anything. Nakamura-sama will be with you in a few minutes. He's busy taking a call." He left, most likely to go inform Nakamura of Shizuo's presence.

Meanwhile, Shizuo lit another cigarette and began smoking it, half because he needed one and half in defiance. "No smoking, my ass." Then he picked up his phone to make a quick call to Izaya, making sure that no one was in earshot.

Izaya picked up immediately:

"_Shizu-chan? Where are you right now?" _

"I'm at Nakamura's place, waiting for him. He's taking a call right now."

"_Che, like hell he is. Probably just wants to make us squirm. I hope he hurries up – it's starting to get very unpleasant in here."_

"Wasn't it unpleasant before?" Shizuo asked, slightly amused. From the way Izaya was talking, no one would have guessed he was in a coffin. He didn't seem to act like he was buried several feet underground with the possibility of suffocation looming over him. It was so like Izaya to pretend that he wasn't bothered, that this was all just a game to him and he was still in control.

"_It's more so at this point, because my legs are getting cramped. I don't think this is fair, Shizu-chan. In my opinion you should be the one buried in this coffin while I deliver the suitcase to Nakamura."_

Shizuo snorted. "As if you would have done anything like that, flea. Unlike me, you would have just let me die and celebrated having another nuisance out of your life." There was no bitterness attached to this statement, strangely enough. Maybe because he hoped Izaya would contradict him.

"_That's not true. If I wanted to kill you I would have preferred to see you run over by a bus. It's no fun if I can't be there to witness it, ne, Shizu-chan?"_

They were talking as if they were old friends, as if they bantered playfully on a regular basis. The topic of their conversation may have seemed disturbing to an outsider, but for the two of them it was perfectly natural. The only difference was that there was no hatred underlining their voices. Shizuo was having _fun_.

"Hey, flea, you owe me one now, right?"

"…_what do you mean?"_

"Well, I'm pretty much saving your life here, aren't I? So I think that you owe me a little something in return."

"_Shizu-chan, how naughty. I never realized you felt that way-" _Izaya began teasingly and Shizuo flushed, his mind suddenly bombarded with uncomfortable images.

"That's not what I mean!" he interrupted quickly, embarrassed. Izaya laughed and he smothered a grin, though he refused to show the other that he was also amused. "I want you to stop deliberately trying to piss me off and make me hurt people. That's all. No more sending gang members after me, no more randomly attacking me and stuff like that. I want you to promise."

Izaya, who was recovering from his small laughing fit, answered: "_Heh, well if that's what you want, then that's what you'll get."_

"Seriously?"

"_As long as you stop trying to kill me whenever you see me. I think it's only fair."_

"Fine," Shizuo agreed reluctantly. He didn't want to admit it, but the adrenaline-filled chases where he tried to destroy Izaya were a strange form of entertainment. Sure, they pissed him off to no end, but they were a good way of blowing off steam. Now he'd have to find some other violent outlet to let go of his anger. "It's a deal."

The door to the room where the bodyguard had disappeared into opened and Shizuo quickly muttered a good-bye to Izaya, hanging up the phone and stuffing it into his pocket quickly. It wasn't quick enough and he noticed a smirk on Nakamura's face:

"Ah, Heiwajima-san. I assume that was Orihara-san on the other end of the line." His voice was smug and Shizuo wanted to punch the man in the face. He settled on gripping his knees as hard as possible, feeling his nails digging into his skin. "How is the informant? Feeling any regret for his actions yet?"

Shizuo didn't answer, gritting his teeth.

"The one flaw in my plan was that I wasn't able to observe Izaya in his suffering. But perhaps it's more fun to let my imagination run wild," Nakamura said thoughtfully, speaking more to himself than to Shizuo.

"Look, can we get on with this?" Shizuo snarled.

"My, my, we're in a hurry, aren't we? I'm surprised, Heiwajima-san. I expected you to leave the informant to perish. I assumed that you were enemies."

"We are," he corrected hurriedly. "But I'm _not _a monster, unlike you. I don't see the fun in letting Izaya suffocate several feet underground while I sit back doing nothing." He pushed the suitcase roughly towards the man, wanting to get this done. Nakamura was acting without a sense of urgency, as if his captive weren't running out of time. As if he weren't holding another human being's life in the palm of his hand. It pissed Shizuo off something fierce and it took all of his effort not to reach over and beat the living daylights out of the man. "Where did you bury Izaya?"

Nakamura stared at the suitcase for a long time, his expression unreadable. Slowly he reached out and opened the case, revealing the money tied in neat bundles. He reached out and picked up a bundle, still silent.

Shizuo felt a strange sensation growing in his stomach – a very unpleasant sensation. He wasn't sure whether Nakamura's silence or his blank face caused the feeling.

He repeated the question:

"Nakamura-san. _Where did you bury Izaya?_"

"I have to admit, Heiwajima-san…I foresaw the small possibility that you helped Izaya. But to me, it really didn't matter whether you delivered the suitcase or not," Nakamura said, frowning slightly. His voice was distant, his thoughts obviously far away.

"What do you mean?" Shizuo asked slowly. The former drug dealer looked up, a light smirk on his face.

"What I mean is that I never intended to let Izaya go. I will take this secret to the grave with me, excuse the pun." He laughed lightly. "You should leave now, and forget this ever happened. You'll never find him."

And Shizuo's entire world exploded in red.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes: **It's kind of funny to think that this story is just cliffhanger after cliffhanger after cliffhanger. I mean, seriously, the end of almost every chapter is a cliffhanger. Isn't that strange? Well, at least it draws out the suspense. And it's near impossible to write this story without constant cliffhangers.

I'd like to thank everyone for their awesome reviews! They totally make my day and motivate me to write. Seriously, most of my stories only get updated once every two months or something, but I feel the need to write faster for this story because I have so many people who are waiting for an update. And thanks for helping me hit the 100 reviews mark!

Also, one reviewer brought up the unrealistic amount of time that Izaya is staying alive. I'd like to say that I do realize that in the real world, Izaya would probably have been dead by now and I knew this from the moment I began planning the story – but it was too much fun for me not to write it. I was hoping you guys would forgive me for this huge flaw in the story and accept me saying that in all honesty, it was never meant to be accurate. Considering this is a story happening in a world where Dullahans exist, men can jump off buildings and lift vending machines, I'll just say that in the world of Durarara, people can survive buried alive for longer than they would in this world.

Hope you enjoy the chapter and please review!

**Chapter Six**

He didn't know how it happened and didn't even recall moving from his sitting position, but all he knew was that one second he was seated on the couch and the next he was on the ground, hand squeezing Nakamura's neck and an animalistic snarl building up in his throat.

"_What the hell are you talking about?_ _You made a promise!_" he howled, barely able to stop himself from crushing the man's throat. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized that this wasn't such a good idea.

Nakamura spluttered and coughed, scrabbling weakly at Shizuo's hands, face turning red. There was a loud yell and Shizuo felt someone grab him from behind and pull him off roughly. His grip loosened completely and Nakamura spluttered and coughed, heaving in a great big breath.

The person who had grabbed him was the giant of a bodyguard who had let him in. The man grasped the back of his shirt, ignoring his struggling.

"Nakamura-sama, what do I do with him?" he asked calmly. Shizuo was too enraged to think clearly, and his frantic movements were doing little good; the man was about as strong as Simon. He could tell that he'd underestimated the bodyguard, just from the fact that Shizuo's erratic movements didn't affect him at all.

Nakamura took a few long seconds to recover, rubbing at his throat. When he spoke, his words were directed at Shizuo:

"Ah, such a _strong _reaction. I didn't foresee this happening, I must admit." He coughed slightly, standing up on wobbly legs. "Though you have to understand the choice I've made, Heiwajima-san. This isn't a game for me. This is _revenge_."

"You're disgusting," Shizuo spat. "You're dealing with someone's life here!"

"Forgive me, Heiwajima-san. But if I were to allow the informant to live, then I might as well erase the memory of my wife's death from my mind and spit on her grave. I began this with the intention of making Izaya suffer a long and humiliating death, and I'm not going to change that, even if it results in my own demise."

Shizuo roared, reaching behind him and digging his nails into the wrists of the bodyguard, who yelled and let go. He fell to the ground, then whirled around and grabbed the bodyguard's shirt and pant leg and hoisted him above his head, only vaguely aware of the man's surprised shout.

Without hesitation he lurched forward, throwing the man in Nakamura's direction. The former drug dealer had quick enough reflexes to jump out of the way, slamming into the ground gracelessly. The bodyguard smashed into the table, sending it toppling over.

The bodyguard jumped up almost immediately, unfazed, and pulled out a gun from inside his suit. Shizuo jumped behind the couch when the man fired, glancing back at the bullet holes in the wall. The man continued to fire and Shizuo kicked the couch hard enough for it to go flying across the room.

The couch hit the bodyguard with a _thud_ and smashed him against the wall before rebounding onto the floor. Dazed, the man had dropped the gun and tottered against the wall.

Seizing his chance, Shizuo leapt forward and grabbed the front of the man's shirt, then lifted him up over his head. In a move of blind fury he twisted his body and brought the bodyguard down headfirst onto the ground. With a sickening _snap_ his neck broke and his body flopped to the ground lifelessly. Shizuo didn't spare him a glance and let go of him, whirling his head around to find Nakamura.

Nakamura hadn't moved from his spot on the floor. He was staring at Shizuo with calm acceptance, unmoved by the violent performance that had just occurred in front of him. He didn't flinch when Shizuo approached him, didn't resist when he was forcefully lifted up until his face was inches from the man.

"I don't appreciate you dragging me into your fucked up revenge scheme," Shizuo growled, black creeping into his vision. "And I _really _don't like what you're doing to Izaya. He may be a flea, but even _he_ doesn't deserve what you've done to him."

Nakamura smirked. "Doesn't he?"

There was a second of darkness, in which Shizuo's entire vision turned black and he had no idea what he was doing. All he could feel was animalistic anger and when his vision cleared, Nakamura's body was limp, hanging from his grip like a rag doll. He let go, watching the corpse fall to the ground with lifeless, empty eyes. The telltale sign of his death were the bruises around his neck and the clearly mangled throat where Shizuo had crushed his airway beyond repair.

The only sound in the room was Shizuo's harsh breathing, which was slowing down every second. His limbs felt heavy as his anger drained away and he turned to stare at the two bodies on the floor. Weakly, he willed for one of them to move, to show that they were still alive, but the corpses remained motionless.

"Oh _God_…" he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. He crouched down and gripped Nakamura's shoulder gently, shaking him to no effect. "Please move…please say something…"

No response.

A strangled gasp escaped his lips and he stood up, stumbling back slightly, eyes wide with shock. He had just _killed_ a human being. _Two _human beings. He was a murderer, a lowlife scum who had just taken the lives of other humans. And not even in self-defense. He'd done it out of pure rage.

He looked down at his hands, which were shaking violently. Neither of them were covered in blood, but he still felt the need to wash them, maybe even peel the skin off his entire body just to feel clean inside again. He felt disgusting, ashamed for what he'd just done.

Shizuo staggered towards the bathroom, almost falling onto the bathroom counter and hurriedly turning on the tap. He washed his hands, ignoring the blisteringly hot water and scrubbing at them, heaving short, panicked breaths. What if the police found him? Would he go to jail? Of course he would, that was a stupid question. Maybe he could get off on self-defense if he lied, but he wouldn't be able to lie. Not for this.

Oh God, what would his _brother_ think? Kasuka would be disappointed in him for sure, maybe even stop talking to him and disown him. Who wanted to be the brother of a cold-blooded murderer?

He had to get rid of the evidence, make sure Celty didn't find out as well. She was the only one who knew he was here, or at least he hoped so. He had no idea whether Nakamura had told anyone else about this meeting. If anyone else knew, then they would guess that he had been here. They'd know that the last person to see Nakamura would be Shizuo, dropping off the suitcase full of money to get Izaya's-

Izaya.

"Izaya," he repeated, his throat suddenly as dry as the desert. "Fuck, Izaya. Oh _fuck_, oh no."

Nakamura had been the only person to know where Izaya was buried. And with Nakamura dead…

He sprinted out of the bathroom, running towards the first set of drawers he saw. He pulled them out, going through the papers like a madman, searching for any sign of Izaya's location, any possibility that Nakamura had written it down. He searched Nakamura's pockets, the bodyguard's clothes, the kitchen, the bedroom and every other damn room in the apartment, throwing useless objects behind him and completely trashing the place.

All in all, it took moments of frantic, speedy searching before he realized that Nakamura had kept Izaya's location in only one place…his own head.

He pulled out his cell phone, dreading this conversation, and called Izaya.

- 0 –

- 0 –

When the phone rang, Izaya was sure the shock gave him a minor heart attack. His eyes flew open and he squeezed the phone in his hand tightly, only to realize that there was no phone in his hand.

While Shizuo had been delivering the suitcase, Izaya had been attempting to meditate – or something along those lines – and slow his breathing, affording him a little more time in this box. Although it had been difficult to stop the instinctual panic of being trapped like a rat in a cage, he'd managed to close his eyes and relax, forcing himself to let his mind wander to more pleasant things.

But the loud blaring of the phone had scared the crap out of him and now he was back to his agitated state, though this time a burst of hope went through him.

It must be Shizuo, calling to tell him that he knew where Izaya was. He grabbed the phone and brought it to his ear, feeling a touch of relief when he heard Shizuo's voice:

"_Izaya? Are you…okay?" _

"Yeah, I'm fine. What did Nakamura say? Do you know where I am?" he demanded impatiently.

"_There's a slight problem…_"

"Problem? What problem?" Izaya's voice went up slightly in pitch, feeling a twinge of worry.

"_Nakamura didn't want to tell me where he buried you. He said this was revenge and he didn't intend to let you out of this alive," _Shizuo answered all in one breath, as if he was scared he was about to stop talking. Izaya felt his heart flutter, but forced himself to remain calm. He was an informant. He had experience in dealing with people who didn't necessarily want to reveal certain information.

And in all honesty, in the back of his mind he'd had a suspicion that Nakamura wasn't willing to let him survive this. But it hadn't meant that all hope was lost.

"Okay…okay, that's a setback. But we can get around that. I doubt you're as good as me at manipulating people, so we'll have to try another approach-"

"_Izaya…_"

"Perhaps using violence? I know you don't like to deliberately hurt people, but this is pretty important, don't you agree, Shizu-chan?"

"_Izaya…_"

"Nakamura might respond to pain-"

"_Izaya! Damn it, Nakamura's dead!_"

Izaya paused, frowning slightly. He felt the ridiculous need to rub his ears to get rid of the roaring sound inside of them as well as the sound of the blood pulsing through his head. Surely Shizuo hadn't just said…

No, that was ridiculous. Nakamura wasn't dead. Nakamura _couldn't_ be dead, because if he was dead and Shizuo sounded this distraught then it meant that there was nobody who knew where Izaya was buried. And logically that would mean that Izaya was then going to die in this godforsaken box, alone and in pain.

Through his haze of bewilderment he could hear his breathing picking up slightly and a foggy rage clouding his mind. He struggled to keep his voice calm as he spoke his next words:

"Care to repeat what you just said, Shizu-chan?"

He could almost see Shizuo wincing at the venom in his tone. _"When he told me he wasn't going to ever let you escape I just…went crazy and I don't know how but he ended up dead. He's dead, Izaya."_

Izaya laughed harshly, with borderline hysteria at the edge of his voice.

"_I-Izaya?"_

"Of course! Of course you would have killed him, Shizu-chan! I don't know why I ever expected anything different. Now that I look back, I should have predicted that the moment my life lay in your hands – the hands of an uncultured, brutish, savage _monster_ – I was doomed!" he cried, still laughing.

Shizuo was silent on the other hand, obviously hurt by his cruel words. But he didn't care. In fact, the thought of Shizuo's pain just spurred him on.

"Why did I think I could depend on you? You've always been a half-wit, even stupider than a vegetable and I always knew it. I guess my situation led me to find hope in even you, but I guess you've proved me wrong, Shizu-chan. You are, and always will be nothing but a monstrous, inhuman beast with no morals and a penchant for violence. No, even worse. Now you're a _murderer_."

"_Stop it…stop it now…"_

"Did it feel good, Shizu-chan, to kill someone with your own hands? They'll hunt you down like the animal you are once they find out. Oh, but I'm sure you'll enjoy the chase," Izaya mocked.

"_Stop saying this…"_

He knew he was going too far, but he kept pushing, because it felt good to release his anger. Nakamura was dead now, so he couldn't hate him anymore. But he could hate the one who had killed Nakamura. He could hate Shizuo.

"How do you think everyone's going to react when they find out? I wonder if your brother will disown you. After all, it wouldn't be good for his reputation to be the brother of a bloodthirsty _killer_, would it, Shizu-chan?"

"_Izaayaaaaaa-" _Shizuo's tone was changing from hurt to angered, but the informant either didn't notice or didn't care.

"The two of you are such an interesting pair, don't you think? You being a brainless protozoan and your brother being an emotionless _freak-_"

"_Don't talk about Kasuka that way!"_ Shizuo howled. _"I don't know why I ever tried to help you in the first place! I should have just let you rot in there like the flea you are and made the world a better place! You can forget about me helping you now! I'm done!" _

And he hung up.

Izaya was left in silence once again, only this time it was even scarier than before, if that was possible. Shizuo had left him so quickly he hadn't even had time to process what was happening. Now he felt that maybe he'd made a terrible, _terrible _mistake.

With shaking fingers he called Shizuo once again. In a frightening sense of déjà vu, nobody picked up the phone. He could hear the ringing, but nobody was answering.

"Shizu-chan? Shizu-chan, pick up the phone," he mumbled, panic growing. "Shizu-chan, pick up the phone! _Pick up the goddamn phone!_"

Nobody answered and he dropped the phone, eyes glazing over. Shizuo had abandoned him.

"Shizu-chan, you bastard." he mumbled calmly. "You left me to die."

He closed his eyes, groaning under his breath.

_Why did Shizu-chan leave me? Why did he leave me to die?_

- 0 –

- 0 –

Shizuo stared in horror at the phone he had just chucked out the window. Unlike last time he'd thrown his phone away, he regretted the action immediately and ran to the window watching as the object plummeted towards the ground.

"Izaya!" he yelled, even though the informant wouldn't be able to hear him. He'd hung up on him before throwing the phone out. _Why had he done that?_

To his intense relief, the phone landed in an open garbage truck that had stopped at the traffic lights. He nearly laughed out loud at the sheer coincidence of it – he thought things like that only happened in movies! There was still a chance that the phone might not be damaged. Even if it were a small chance, he'd still take it.

His relief however, was short-lived. The lights turned green and the truck began to drive off – "_No!"_ – and any second now it would be gone and his only means of communication with the informant disappearing along with it.

He looked back frantically, easily deciding that there was no time to go down the stairs; the truck would be long gone by then. So in a moment of clarity he did what any other completely sane person would do in such a situation.

He jumped out the window.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes: **Well, after this chapter there's the epilogue. I think this is the fastest I've actually ever written a story. I had a lot of fun writing this one too, and I hope you all had a lot of fun reading it. Izaya and Shizuo are such complex characters to write, and it was so difficult trying to keep them in character the entire time, especially in a situation like this.

Not much to say here, except enjoy the chapter and review! Only one left after this chapter! I'll be sad when it's over, that's for sure.

And if you catch any mistakes, please inform me about them so I can correct them.

**Chapter Seven**

It took about a millisecond after Shizuo jumped out the window to realize what he'd just done. He had just jumped off the sixth floor of an apartment building, aiming for the very solid, very concrete road currently being overrun by cars. In retrospect, it had probably been a stupid idea. Maybe if he'd had time to think about it…

No…no, he would've done the same thing.

Hurtling through the air, Shizuo felt a tight sense of fear in his chest, but he wasn't sure whether that was from the fact that he'd just thrown his phone out the window, or the fact that he'd just thrown himself out the window. It was probably a little bit of both. The wind rushing past him didn't feel very comforting, neither was the road that was approaching him at an alarming speed.

He was pretty sure he wasn't going to die – being shot multiple times barely slowed him down, so he doubted a pathetic fall like this would kill him – but he worried momentarily that he might land wrong and cripple himself or be knocked unconscious. Then he wouldn't be able to help Izaya in time…

Not that he could help the flea anyway, considering that he'd killed the only person who knew where he was buried.

This all passed through his mind within seconds, and as the ground rushed up towards him, only a few meters away now, he saw a blur of silver and squeezed his eyes shut.

Then he slammed into the ground.

The impact knocked his breath straight out of his lungs and sent an explosion of pain across his body. His legs, which had been bent to ease his landing, were swept out from underneath him. He heard the scrunch of metal and felt the ground underneath him give way, curving around his body slightly as it crumpled. He heard the screeching of several brakes through the surge of agony and felt the ground tilt before crashing back down. Screams were heard around him, his body throbbed viciously and he felt blood trickling down the side of his head.

But he was alive. He was alive, and before he could even recover from the horrific fall, he forced himself to move, rolling to the side. Immediately he felt another falling sensation, but this one was short-lived. He slammed onto the floor, feeling his head crack against the concrete.

_Must've…fallenona….fallen…on…acar, _he thought through the painful haze enveloping his brain. He didn't allow himself a moment of recovery and forced his screaming muscles to work, pushing himself up onto violently trembling legs. He had never felt such pain before, never felt so close to death before and it was scary. Through the fog of red he saw a mass of cars around him and realized that he'd caused a chaotic pile-up. Not to mention a complete wreck of a car.

People around were screaming and panicking and he realized that he was completely covered in blood. _His _blood. The sight of it made him nauseous…sort of. He mind wasn't clear enough to recognize the feeling of nausea yet, so instead he just felt his stomach lurch strangely but didn't react.

Blearily he glanced up, noting a terrified driver who was starting at the grotesque remnants of the front of his car. Shizuo couldn't even lift his hand in apology and instead began to totter the other way, towards the truck that had taken off. The truck had stilled several meters away, trapped in a minor traffic jam and for that he was grateful.

He staggered towards it, hearing a screech of brakes and that incessant screaming-

_CRACK._

Something smacked into his back and he felt himself soaring across the sky, wind rushing again along with that familiar, oh-so-despised falling sensation. This one was a lot more short-lived and he slammed back into the ground, hearing the sickening crack of bones and feeling his skin split open as the impact dragged him across the concrete.

He looked at the smeared blood on the ground and groaned, pushing his body up with his good hand. His left arm was mangled but he didn't spare it a glance. Instead he stumbled towards the truck, arm in front of him like a zombie. Some rational part of him – the part that had almost been completely pulverized by the pain – realized just how terrifying he must look. A bloodied, broken body stumbling and groaning with arms reaching in front, almost blindly dragging itself towards some unknown destination.

He reached the truck, hauling himself somehow by one arm and using his wobbly legs to climb up the side. He didn't know how he made it, all he knew was that he fell over the side like a sack of flour with an '_oomph'_ and immediately was hit with the smell of garbage.

_Oh, that's disgusting…_

His vision cleared slightly and he caught sight of the phone, nestled neatly on a plastic bag. He reached out with a shaky hand and grasped it, pulling it close to him. His fingers snagged in the plastic as he pulled the phone and it ripped. Cotton, crumpled silk and vomit poured out onto the garbage. He would have been disgusted, except that the contents of that trash bag had just saved his phone. The screen was cracked slightly, but to his intense joy, the phone seemed to be relatively undamaged other than that.

It was only fitting that Shizuo had chosen a phone as ridiculously invincible as him. He didn't care if it was covered in vomit right now – he was going to keep this phone in a glass case and preserve it for as long as he lived.

"Oh, thank God…for fucking miracles…" he gasped, flopping back against the side of the truck. He turned slightly, noticing a strange movement out of the corner of his eye.

It was Celty, who was on her motorcycle having stopped right next to the truck. She was waving frantically, obviously panicked by what she had just witnessed. He stared at her for a few seconds, then realized that she was still waving and was probably going out of her mind.

He did the only think he could think of at that moment to show he was okay. He gave her a thumbs up.

- 0 -

- 0 -

The air was running thin now. Soon it would feel like he was breathing through a straw, then he wouldn't be able to breathe altogether. He didn't want to imagine what would happen then. He couldn't kid himself that he'd stay calm and dignified – people did crazy things when they were close to death.

_This…would have been a very interesting experiment to carry out on someone_, he thought absent-mindedly.

Of course, unlike Nakamura, he wouldn't have let his beloved victim die. He'd have just waited until they went a little bit crazy, were on the brink of death and then he would have released them. He liked to watch his humans react to certain situations. He didn't like to watch them perish. That wasn't any fun.

He was going to miss his beloved humans.

The phone next to him beeped. It was running out of battery now. There hadn't been very much to begin with, and every beep reminded him of how alone he was right now.

His fingers tightened around the knife he was holding, and suddenly he smiled slightly. It was strange – the feeling of gratefulness that prickled across his skin. At least Nakamura had given him a knife to speed up the process. He knew already that he would rather slit his throat than suffocate.

_Would've been better if Nakamura left me a gun…_

Most of all, he thought, he was going to miss Shizuo. Whether he hated or loved the man, it didn't matter. There was something about Shizuo that just brightened his day, made it more interesting to be alive.

_Maybe when Shizu-chan dies…we can begin the chase again_, he thought grimly, then chuckled to himself. Yes, he'd look forward to that very much.

He raised the knife to his neck, hand trembling very slightly. He could feel the point digging into his neck. He wondered how much it was going to hurt…

A few drops of blood ran down his neck and he held back a whimper. Through his forced calm, a small tingle of panic was forcing itself through.

_Do it. Just…don't think about it…_

He took a deep breath – or tried to – and closed his eyes, then pushed the knife in deeper.

His phone rang.

The loud blaring didn't scare him like last time. He was tense, on edge, but his brain was too foggy for him to be shocked. Instead he dropped the knife, reaching up with one hand to touch the blood that had been squeezed out of the shallow cut.

"So close," he mumbled. Then he reached for the phone and held it to his ear. "Sh-Shizu-chan?"

"_Izaya…_"

Shizuo's voice was ragged, as if he'd just run a marathon. There was an undertone of triumph, of relief, and dully Izaya wondered where that came from.

"_Izaya…I got it_," Shizuo chuckled roughly. "_It didn't break. It's a miracle…heh…I threw it out the fucking window…_"

"What? How is it not broken?" He knew that Nakamura's apartment was at least on the sixth floor, if not higher.

"_Landed in a garbage truck, on a plastic bag full of cotton, blankets and puke_. _Like I said, it's a miracle._"

Izaya frowned, the strangeness of Shizuo's situation piercing through the haze in his mind. "Then how…are you calling me?"

"_How do you think? The stairs would've taken too long_." He was only half-joking, Izaya could tell. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to take a breath.

"Y-you're in a garbage truck? You jumped out the window?"

"_I didn't have much of a choice._ _I'm sitting in a pile of trash completely bloodied and I stink like hell. This would've probably been the best moment of your life if you could see me right now._" Shizuo's breathing was ragged from the pain he was obviously experiencing and Izaya felt a pang of…_something_ inside of him.

Shizuo – the man he'd called an inhuman brute, a monster – had jumped out the window for _him. _He'd done it for Izaya, the lousy, manipulative informant who hurt all those around him deliberately and without remorse. He'd taunted and tortured this man for years, and now Shizuo had jumped out a fucking _window _just so he could save Izaya. Just so he could try to save Izaya.

He swallowed, the hitch in his breathing from more than the thinness of the air.

"_Izaya? Your breathing sounds funny…fuck, you're running out of time." _Shizuo sounded panicked, but Izaya barely cared. All he could think about was that someone cared enough to do so much to save _him_ – someone who didn't deserve saving. Even more important, _Shizuo _was the one trying to save him. "_I'm gonna call the police, I'm gonna-"_

"No, Shizu-chan," Izaya breathed, closing his eyes. "They won't find me in time. You know that."

"_Then I'll get Celty to help me! I'll dig up the entire city if I have to!"_

"You have to go to Namie."

"_Wh-what?" _The bodyguard was confused by the sudden change in subject. "_What about her? She knows where you're buried?" _

"She'll take care of everything – make sure they never find Nakamura's body. She can keep you out of jail, and she'll do it if you explain everything. She respects me enough to do that for me. And I owe you that much at least. Heh, never thought I'd be saying that."

"_Th-that doesn't matter. You can take care of that. You can-"_

"My battery's running out soon. My air's running out too. So I think I'll hang up now."

"_There's still time."_

"I didn't think you were going to help me," Izaya admitted. The bodyguard fell silent on the other end of the line, but Izaya knew it wasn't from anger. "But you did. You did so much to help me…even though I made your life miserable. And I think…that makes you the closest friend I've ever had. Haha, isn't that ironic?" He frowned slightly. "I shouldn't have said those things…Shizu-chan. They weren't true…"

Shizuo's breathing was even harsher than his own, and Izaya thought he could hear a choked sob within his breathing. Was Shizuo crying for him? _No one's ever cried for me_. He didn't notice his own tears sliding down his skin.

"_You're…you're my friend too, Izaya._"

"Heh…you always…were unpredictable…Shizu-chan."

He smiled, hanging up the phone and holding it to his chest. He was barely able to breathe anymore, sucking in short – _not enough oxygen! _– pathetic little gasps of air. It was agonizing, but he wasn't scared anymore though.

He wouldn't be scared anymore.

Nakamura had placed him in his own grave, pretending that this was just a little game to make him suffer, dangling escape at the end of a rope. But really, it had just been petty revenge. Izaya was disappointed in the man; he had thought better of him. But Nakamura had acted just like a human in the end.

_I guess I…was right…humans are so…predictable…_

_Heh…I really do…love them…_

- 0 -

- 0 -

The phone dropped from his limp hand onto the trash, but he didn't care. In the distance, he could hear the sound of the paramedics arriving. People weren't screaming anymore, but there was still yelling and he could see drivers and passengers getting out of their cars and surveying the wreck.

He climbed out of the truck, ears ringing and vision swimming, leaving the phone behind. It wasn't like he needed it anymore. He didn't feel the pain from his injuries; he was still too numb. People were staring at him, and vaguely he realized that someone was asking whether he was okay. He ignored them, trudging slowly towards Celty, who was standing next to her motorbike uncertainly. She didn't really seem to know what to do; she had never seen him like this.

His legs trembled underneath him but he knew they'd keep him up. The ambulance arrived and the paramedics sprang into action, quickly and efficiently. They began loading people onto stretchers.

He remained by Celty's side until finally, timidly, she tapped onto her PDA. When she showed him the screen, it took him a while to read it because the words and letters were all jumbled up:

_[Is Izaya going to be okay?] _

It took her only a second after he read it to quickly put away her PDA, because his face must have given away his emotions. And then, uncharacteristically, she hugged him. It didn't matter than he was covered in blood, or that his arm was broken. It didn't matter that he smelled like trash and that he had garbage all over his clothes, and that it would take weeks to get the smell off of her skin.

None of it mattered, because for the first time since they'd met, Heiwajima Shizuo was _crying_, and she didn't know how else to react. Neither did he, so he responded like any other human would. He hugged her back.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes: **Here we have the epilogue of 'Under the Surface'. This is the last chapter I will be posting for this story, so after this the story will be complete. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the chapter before!

**Chapter Eight**

**Epilogue**

Shizuo and Namie exited the police station in silence, neither of them really feeling up to a conversation. Namie had walked in briskly and said a few words to the police officer sitting at his desk. He'd argued for a little bit but it had been futile – the woman had not even wavered. Finally he'd released Shizuo from his jail cell and the blond had trudged out silently, shooting the officer a deathly glare before following Izaya's former assistant.

The sky was dark, indicating that he'd been in that cell for several hours, though he didn't really care. He'd lost track of time thanks to the throbbing pain in his arm and ribs and…fuck, _everything _just hurt. He could feel his stress levels rising now that he wasn't confined. He could so easily go back there and beat those bastards to a pulp if he wanted to.

Namie produced a pack of cigarettes from her purse, handing them over to him silently as if she was reading his mind. He took them gratefully, thinking that Celty must have told her to grab a pack whilst heading over to the police station.

Namie noticed his limping and raised her eyebrows:

"They didn't at least patch you up?"

He grunted – "Wouldn't let anyone near me after what happened. Too pissed off." He lit up one of the cigarettes and took a deep drag from it, feeling the headache in the back of his head diminishing enough for him to think clearly.

The headache had been plaguing him ever since he'd gone to the police – ignoring the stares of people obviously taken aback by his bloodied and stinking state – and demanded that they find Izaya. He knew the informant had told him not to bother, but he wasn't just going to give up, not when he could still do _something_. So he'd gone, and true to Izaya's word, the trip had been completely worthless.

He'd told them the situation as quickly as possible and immediately they had promised to send out a search party. Then Shizuo had watched as the police officer he'd talked to walked off, then bent down to mutter something in the ear of his superior officer, who had given Shizuo a _look_. And Shizuo had lost it, because he knew from that _look _that the man wasn't going to send a damn search party, because that _look_ told him everything he needed to know – that the police were fucking corrupt and Nakamura had made sure that they wouldn't do anything to help him, not until it was too fucking late and that wasn't _goddamn good enough_.

His blood boiled at the thought of it, but what pissed him off even more was the fact that he couldn't even get a punch in before four policemen jumped on him and held him down. He could have taken them no problem, but even in his rage-clouded mind he could sense that attacking several policemen was not a good idea.

He growled at the very memory and noticed Namie's blank expression falter slightly.

A couple of minutes later he finally broke the silence:

"Where's Celty? I thought she brought you here. I told her to go get you, so you could bail me out."

"Celty went back home to give Shinra the news. She seemed upset about everything that's happened, but she didn't explain to me in detail. I'm expecting you to do that," she said flatly. From the look in her eyes, Shizuo could tell that she already knew her former employer was dead. She didn't seem outwardly melancholy, but her emotionless expression was so clearly forced that he could tell she wasn't completely unaffected.

Shizuo gave her a quick rundown of what happened, his voice cracking every once in a while. He told her the bare minimum – she didn't need to know about his and Izaya's private conversations – and she said nothing until the very end. Once he had finished she let the silence drag on for a few more minutes.

They had walked to the park by now and she was subtly leading him towards the bench, where she now sat with her purse on her lap and her legs locked together.

"I will take care of Nakamura and his body. The man had many enemies, and it will be easy to pin the blame on any one of them. That problem will be easily resolved." She hesitated before continuing. "I will also…take care of Izaya's funeral. I'm assuming you will be attending?"

Shizuo nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. There was no hope now, nothing for him to grasp onto anymore. At some point in that jail cell, denial had slipped away without him noticing and he'd begun to realize how many second, minutes, hours had passed. Now it felt like he was in a vague dream, all the colors around him soft and slightly blurry, with only the moonlight to illuminate his surroundings.

Namie was still talking and he forced himself to concentrate:

"…Izaya's family. Of course they will want to know, though I'm not exactly sure what I will tell them caused Izaya's death. It's going to be complicated, since they'll want to see his body and we won't have one to show them." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If we tell them he was murdered they might want to launch an investigation, which could lead to them connecting the dots and inevitably bring them to you. Considering what you told me, this is the last thing we want to do. I'm going to have to make up some elaborate lie as to why Izaya's dead and why they can't see the body or why there isn'teven a body."

Her words were so cold and clinical that most people listening would have thought her heartless and uncaring. Shizuo, however, was grateful that she was keeping herself so put-together and formal. He couldn't have handled a woman sobbing like she'd lost her lover, begging him to tell her Izaya's last words and whether he'd mentioned her at any point during their conversations.

_There isn't even a body…_

He dropped his cigarette to the ground and lit up another one, knowing that he'd have finished the entire pack before going to sleep tonight.

Namie stood up to leave so abruptly he stepped back.

"I will be in touch with you. If you need me, here's my number. Just call me and I'll help you." She handed him the card. She didn't say it, but Shizuo could clearly hear the meaning behind her words. Her respect for Izaya – even if there wasn't any particular love reserved for the man – was enough that she would help Shizuo, because Izaya wanted him to be helped.

Shizuo took it, knowing that this would probably end up in a drawer somewhere, ink fading and edges turning blunt. He didn't care though; the offered help was comforting. Most of all, it was the fact that she was tied to Izaya in some way that made him take the card, as if by grabbing every link to Izaya that he could find, he could somehow change what had happened, or at least try to accept it.

He remained where he was long after she had gone, the only indication of his mood the pile of cigarettes on the ground by his feet. His mind was blank, descending down into some deep underground just like Izaya who had died alone, and by the time he finished the pack, something inside of him had snapped and been buried inside of him, safely tucked away like a defense mechanism.

He didn't resurface for a long time.

- 0 –

- 0 –

He checked his phone. _Thirty-eight new messages_. _Sixty-three missed calls._

People must be worried about him. He hadn't been home for a couple of weeks, so he guessed it was understandable. No one really knew where he was and he hadn't contacted any of his friends since that night at the police station.

_Where have you been? Shinra and I are worried. Please call us._

_The problem with Nakamura has been resolved. Don't draw attention to yourself and you'll be okay. _

He placed a plate of spaghetti onto the table, nodding reflexively at the customer's soft _'thank you_' and then walked away, holding the tray at his side limply. His left arm was still damaged, but he'd taken off the sling the day before, annoyed by how much it restrained his movement.

Nobody spared him a second glance, even though some of them probably knew about his reputation. Even so, he wasn't recognizable with his brown hair – he'd dyed it back before leaving his apartment – and nobody would identify his features. They probably knew him as the faceless blond monster that threw vending machines and people around without breaking a sweat. No one knew him personally, and he liked that.

He picked up two more plates, setting them on his tray and robotically moving around, keeping his head down.

_Brother, your friends have been calling me to ask where you are. They're worried about you, and so am I. At least let us know that you're safe and okay. _

He knew that everyone was worried about him, but he needed some time alone. He needed some time to think, not just about what had happened, but also about his entire life. Now that Izaya was dead his purpose in life had changed. Was 'changed' even the right word?

No, no it wasn't the right word.

His purpose had been completely destroyed. For Shizuo, his only reason to live had been to chase Izaya around the city and eventually kill him. It had been some sort of twisted game between the two of them and now that the other player had been vanquished, Shizuo was at a loss as to what he could do with his life.

He could go back to helping Tom, but was that really a life? He couldn't even use his full strength, couldn't even be himself unless he was trying to kill the flea. Now his clothes, the ones that Kasuka had given him, were like a prison. They were suffocating, restraining him until he couldn't breathe.

_Shizuo, where have you been for the past week? You haven't shown up for work and you're not answering your phone._

_I heard about Izaya's death. Is that why you're not showing up to work?_

_Shizuo, it's been two weeks. Celty has taken to searching the city for you. She's worried something might have happened. Call me. _

Izaya's funeral was going to be in a couple of days. He still hadn't decided what to do when the time came. Would he attend it and face all of his friends and their questions? The easier option would just be to skip it entirely and stay here, waiting on tables and returning to that crappy hotel room.

It's not like they had even found Izaya's body yet. The search was a complicated one – they could go digging up every single place that the informant could possibly have been buried. He might be in a park or a cemetery or somebody's backyard. Nobody had reported any strange sightings of men digging a hole in some obscure area.

Namie was keeping him updated at his request. It was pretty much the extent of their conversations – completely business-like. Not once did she ever ask about his wellbeing, even though she was probably aware of his disappearance.

_We still haven't found his body. The funeral is taking place nevertheless in five days. _

_The police believe that a rival drug dealer is behind Nakamura's death. They're investigating the man right now. There's still nothing connecting you to his death. _

_Brother, I saw you today while I was going to meet my agent. I noticed you dyed your hair back to brown, which I was surprised about. I haven't told any of your friends where you are, but I'm glad to see that you are at least unhurt and safe. When you are ready to talk, I'll be there for you. _

He glanced up from the table he was currently serving and saw someone familiar at the door of the restaurant. Celty was showing one of the waiters her PDA when she caught sight of him and let it drop to her side. She didn't move towards him but he sighed, putting his tray down and walking towards her.

Maybe it was time to go back now.

- 0 –

- 0 –

"It's not even like you're buried here."

The words were hoarse and unfamiliar in his voice, which had been abused and unused for so many months now. If any of his friends were here, they would probably have had a minor heart attack at hearing him speak.

Not that he could blame them – no one had heard him say a word after Celty had found him in that restaurant. It wasn't like he'd become a complete recluse and just refused to speak. He just…didn't have anything to say to anyone really. Shizuo had never been very good with words, and verbalizing his thoughts at the time had seemed a near impossible task. So he'd decided not to do it and instead had taken comfort in his silence. And his bottle.

Instinctively he clutched the bottle of alcohol tightly, feeling slight guilt burn through him. He'd been drinking more than necessary since Izaya's death. His friends were concerned. His brother said nothing, but when he visited Shizuo his eyes would linger on that ever-present bottle for a few seconds while his face remained blank.

"You know, I never imagined you'd be the one to drive me to alcoholism," he muttered, placing the bottle at the foot of the grave. "But even in death, you've managed to screw up my life. I bet you're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?"

He felt like an idiot, talking to an empty grave.

The headstone read 'Orihara Izaya', but there was nobody inside the coffin. The empty coffin hadn't been questioned – Namie must have come up with an adequate explanation – and when it had been lowered into the ground Izaya's family had been in tears and people around had been so somber and morose. It hadn't affected Shizuo.

Why would it? Izaya had already been in the ground. All they were doing was lowering an empty coffin into the dirt and everyone had to pretend it was the dead informant when really it was just a wooden box.

"You'd also be pleased to see how many people showed up at the funeral too. Shinra and Celty were there, of course. Simon too. Namie was there, and she brought her brother and his creepy girlfriend with the scarred neck. Your family, of course, was there. Your parents seem pretty nice and normal, so I don't know why the hell you turned out to be such a flea, but I guess they were just unlucky in that way." He laughed humorlessly, only half-joking. "Your sisters are weird, but that's probably from your influence."

He didn't feel bad about teasing Izaya. Hell, if anything, it made him feel better. Izaya wouldn't have wanted him to start being all nice and fake, even if he was dead. No, their relationship would not be different in that sense.

"Those three kids from Raira Academy came along. The girl with the glasses, the shy kid and their loud blond friend. And that kid's girlfriend, Saki or something like that. My brother attended too, when I told him what happened. I had to tell him the truth. You know, since he's my brother. I also saw some pretty shady characters…like that Shiki guy who introduced himself to me. Overall…it was a lot more than I expected. I never realized that many people cared about you, flea."

He was sitting on the ground now, twirling the bottle around and staring blankly at that meaningless headstone. He didn't know why, after so many months of staying silent, the words were pouring out like water. It was as if he'd opened a gate, and suddenly everything he'd been meaning to say had just surfaced and poured out and he couldn't stop it anymore.

There was no reply to any of his ramblings, just that soft quiet and every once in a while the whispering of the wind.

He didn't even know whom he was talking to – Izaya wasn't in that grave. There was no one in the grave. He was just talking to whoever would listen…the sky, the ground, his bottle…whatever.

"Everyone thinks I'm suicidal…I guess they're right…"

The trees rustled in the background.

"Can a person die from boredom? Because that's all I ever feel now…_bored_. Like…my life has no purpose or reason. Like the only thing I was ever meant to do was chase you around the city and try to kill you…and I didn't even get to kill you in the end – Nakamura took care of that. Now I have nothing to do…"

He smirked, taking a swig from his bottle. The drink burned his throat but he reveled in the feeling.

"Except drink. I drink a lot nowadays, flea, thanks to you. Not as much as I first did, but still enough. When I started I nearly died from alcohol poisoning. Celty was furious…" There was a long, uninterrupted silence and his expression turned thoughtful. "Do you want me to kill myself, Izaya? Do you want me to chase you again, just so you can cut me with your blade? I need a fucking challenge now that you're dead, and no one matches up. The only person who could ever take me was you…and Simon, but he's not into violence and he doesn't piss me off like you do."

The bottle was empty now and he stared at it with glassy eyes, feeling somber. Things were changing for the better now.

Everyday he drank just a little bit less, and he felt a little bit better. Everyone around him was so worried that he had spiraled into alcoholism but he knew better. Everyday he improved ever so slightly, drinking later in the day and finishing earlier in the night. His craving for the drink lessened steadily and soon his apartment would be void of all alcohol once again.

So he wasn't worried about that.

"It shouldn't have ended this way, flea. I should have been the one to kill you. I wish I'd killed you when I got the chance. Then I wouldn't feel like this. I…I should have hated you until the very end…"

He dropped the bottle, looking up at the sky. He grinned slightly, thinking that there was no way Izaya was in Heaven right now. If anything, his soul had just gone deeper underground than his body. But he looked up at the clouds nonetheless when he spoke, feeling the sun on his face.

"I think I'm going to try to move on now, if that's okay with you, flea…I have a life you know…"

He turned to leave, feeling as though some weight had lifted off his shoulders, as if he'd been released from some cage. He fancied he could almost hear laughing in the distance – Izaya was always mocking him – and he ran his hands through his brown hair. He'd have to dye that again sometime; blond suited him better.

Even though he felt like his mind was growing clearer and he felt like he was moving forward, there was still an itch right under the surface of his skin. It was an urge, a _need _to grab something and just _throw _it, to just let himself go and use all the strength he had. It would never go away now that Izaya was gone, but for now, he could just ignore it.

For now, he could just bury the feeling.

- 0 -

- 0 -

Well, that's the end of 'Under the Surface', my very first Durarara story. It was so much fun to write and I think I got some of the best reviews I've ever received. I was also really, really surprised by the number of reviews I got because I seriously wasn't expecting that much, not that I'm not really happy about it.

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed – I really appreciated it so much and it definitely sped up my writing. I hope you all enjoyed the story because I definitely enjoyed writing it. I'm sad that it's ending now, but also happy because this lets me begin a new story.

I hope you'll all check out my next fic – 'Random In The Agency', of which I've put up the first chapter. It has a lot of similar elements – such as people wanting Izaya dead – with the exception that Shizuo and Izaya actually interact in person, and not just over the phone. It will be longer than UtS with a lot more characters involved and maybe…even more angst! (Though I'm not sure how that's possible).

I love you all!

…and please review.


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